The Tower at Stony Wood

Three

Melanthos saw the tower in the mirror at sunrise. Sun struck it, rising over the ring of hills enclosing the plain on which the tower stood. Nothing grew on the plain, possibly because of the monster that had wound itself around the tower. It appeared to be sleeping. But as the hills released the sun, it turned them red, and flooded the wasteland with light. The beast’s visible eye opened then, round and golden as the sun.

It yawned, showing sharp crystal teeth through which light blazed and separated into colors. For a moment rainbows trembled over the parched ground. Then fire rolled out of the beast’s maw, licking at the dust. Its teeth snapped shut; its flat, triangular head lowered again, both eyes visible now, and watching.

Dragon, she thought, chilled and fascinated.

Its scales seemed luminous, sparkling green, gold, bronze, copper, outlining paler diamonds of pearl, ash, bone. It lay with its tail beneath its head, its body circling the round tower. She watched a wing shift, open slightly to the air. The other wing was pressed against the tower. In the new light, the tower, as red as the barren hills, burned brightly as a flame within the dragon’s ring.

She could see no door. The tower showed its back to her, she thought; it must show its face to the rising sun. Yet its blindness teased at her, presented an image to her mind’s eye: the tower with no way in, no way out.

What lay inside? she wondered as the image faded. What did the dragon guard? Who did it watch for, in the dead, fiery waste?

She chose her threads with difficulty, wanting more colors than she had, wondering that such a deadly place could be kindled to such astonishing beauty.

She began with the tiny, moving reflection in the dragon’s eye.